


Listen

by flinchflower



Series: The 50kinkyways [40]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Collars, Discipline, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-27
Updated: 2011-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-24 02:11:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 39: Collars. John discovers his BDSM boys.  Also a collarfic, Dean dominant.  John does not relate to the boys sexually, just as their father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Listen

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed the characters originally so I could use them as a writing exercise, to see how close I could get the characterization. Then I was corrupted by porn. And kink. Here’s a side of kink. This is simply for practice, not publication or profit. I’m in the hole by about 30 grand, if you’d like to seize my debt as punishment. AU in that I refuse to admit the death of John Winchester.

There’s a fine art to defiance, to disobedience, to insubordination, to mutiny. Over the years, Sam Winchester has perfected them all and then some. He suffered any number of consequences on the way to that perfection, from scoldings, to arguments, to groundings, to extra PT. But for the most part, he can find his way out of any of it, anymore. He’s an adult, you see, and he makes adult decisions – most days.

Today is not one of those days. Dean left him with stern orders to stay put in the motel, that the risk of the two of them getting separated in the garden labyrinth was too great, would be too much risk. Dean had the better memory for floor plans and how they related to the actual thing, and this would be no different. Sam hadn’t felt the same. Sam had snuck out to the site, armed with the excuse that the labyrinth was basically a Chartres pattern, and he’d walked one of those before.

It didn’t do a thing for the fact that he had indeed gotten lost in it, the spirit had sent Dean through a hawthorn hedge to land at Sam’s very lost feet, and gone on to lay an impressive cut open on Sam’s forearm before Dean got in a clear shot and dispatched it. He’d hauled himself to his feet, pointed at Sam.

“Stay.”

For such a hushed voice, it carried a lot of thunder, tones were eerily reminiscent of a furious John Winchester. Sam stayed. Dean went, destroyed the cursed sundial, and stalked back, leading the way out flawlessly without a word. The drive back had been just as silent, and the door to the motel closed quietly – all very bad signs. Dean had showered, attended to the cut on Sam’s arm, all matter of fact and extremely quiet. Sam’s now extremely nervous.

“Did you get Dad’s call before you snuck out?”

“Dad’s call?”

“Dad was supposed to call the room, check in while I was out.”

“Uh, no.”

“Really.”

“Dean, I’ve walked one of those labyrinths-“

“COLLAR.”

Sam meekly obeys. He may have learned every way possible around getting out of trouble, but the look on Dean’s face? He’s not getting out of this one. He offers the collar to Dean, who responds with a terse order to strip, while he’s rummaging in a duffel. Oh shit. That’s Dean’s toy bag, and there’s… fuck. Dean’s gonna take a strap to him. Not the light one, either.

“I’m sorr-“ He doesn’t even get the apology out, Dean puts a hand over his mouth, buckles the collar on, and throws Sam over his lap, faultlessly coupling the wrist cuffs, and then the ankle cuffs on the boy. He pauses with a hand on Sam’s lower back, strap resting on Sam’s bottom. Sam’s well and truly fucked, and not in the mindblowing, orgasmic sense of the word, either.

“You will stay PUT when I tell you to,” roars Dean, and a barrage of heavy slaps light Sam’s butt on fire instantly. “I could have KILLED you, you fucking idiot!” A thousand bee-stings would feel better than the sensation of the strap coming down repeatedly across his thighs and buttocks, Dean’s not holding back. “You know better than to disobey orders, Sam!” The bee-stings progress into first degree burn status, and Sam’s got tears running down his face from the sensation. The sheer fury and fear in Dean’s voice and the tension in the arm that’s holding him firmly in place up the ante as well.

Dean is blind with fury, thinking of what could have happened. “You didn’t stay where I told you to.” The strap slaps down another dozen times. “You didn’t call me to tell me you were onsite, at least.” Another set of blistering smacks. “You didn’t make a single attempt to defend yourself, dammit, Sam, where the hell was your weapon? Why wasn’t it at the ready?” Dean focuses on the brilliant red target in his lap and wallops the boy with the stiff leather, ignoring the squirming. “And you didn’t goddamn well make sure to get out of my line of fire, and I know you could have, Sam, and that-“ a couple of extra heavy blows – “doesn’t go over well for someone who’s supposed to be TRAINED, like you are!”

Sam is sobbing nearly incoherently, wounded not only by the insane agony of his derriere, but by the truth of Dean’s words. He doesn’t know what he’d say to his brother even if he was allowed to speak. Dean brings the strap cracking down another dozen times, and then quietly speaks.

“You do not EVER do that again, you understand me? You don’t even seem to understand the risk – well, you can bet I’m gonna make you understand.”

There’s a sound from the doorway. John Winchester is inside, leaning on the closed door.

“You’ll have some help with that,” is all he says. “Finish up there.”

Dean’s anger is still drowning out everything else, including shock at seeing their father – the fact that John is watching him beat the daylights out of his little brother, his lover, rigged up in bondage gear– kind of takes a sideline to the fear and anger that Sam awoke in him. He unclips Sam’s ankle cuffs and yanks him to his feet, forcing him around to look at just him, putting Sam’s back to their father. He jerks Sam in close.

“DO you understand me.”

“Y-y-yes-ss-sir,” comes the shocked stammer.

“You’re gonna get this by the end of the week, so help me God, Sam. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Sam is shaking. “I’m s-s-s-orrry, D-dean.”

“I bet you are.” He unclips Sam’s wrists from behind him, and cracks a hard swat down on the red buttocks. “Bed, NOW. I’ll deal with you in the morning. If you think you can keep your mouth shut to listen to me talk in the morning, you can take the collar off. Now move.” He swats Sam again, and Sam practically dives into the bed, with furtive glances towards John. Dean turns around, snags his jacket. “Go for a walk,” he asks his father.

John nods. They walk the mile loop through the park across from the motel, and Dean’s calmer by the time they loop back in sight of the building.

“When did you come inside?”

“About where you told him you could have killed him. Heard you yelling, caught some of it before that. I assumed there was a problem when no one answered, hurried down. Figured you both were fine when I saw the Impala. Not what I expected to see when I walked in the door.” John's words are terse and clipped, worse than usual, and Dean thinks he recognizes the gruff pattern of speech, though part of him is certainly waiting for the ass-reaming to begin.

“Nosir,” is all he says.

“Handcuffs, maybe, so you could beat the tar out of him like he deserved – I’d do the same to you, boy. Didn’t expect to see a collar on him.”

Dean clears his throat, sighs. “I didn’t expect you, sir.”

“And?”

“We…” Dean trails off, the silence deafening.

“No good way to tell your old man you’re playing BDSM games, is there.”

“Nosir.”

“He subs.”

“Yessir. I – Dad, he LISTENS to me, I did it the first time to see if he’d shut the hell up and listen to directions –“ Dean flushed, not wanting to talk about sex with his dad, remembering that John doesn’t want details about their sex lives. “He listens, Dad, lets me take care of him. It helps. You know how he gets.”

John nods, slowly. “I can see that.” They sit in silence for a while. “I’ll give Walt McAllister a call, see if he’ll lend us his cabin. Not far from here. I expect that last threat you gave him implied training.”

“Yessir.”

“You let me help with that. I’ll spank him myself when he fucks up, training.”

“Yessir.”

They walked back to the motel in silence together, Dean marveling over his father’s acceptance, John marveling over the fact that someone on the planet finally found a way to get Sam to listen. Thank God for small miracles.


End file.
